"Why do you think we've been carrying broomsticks around?"

"I've never seen you with broomsticks!"

"What about the stadium?! I mean, it's right there; it's not like you could miss that!"

"I asked y'all about the stadium!" Rook rounded on Fred. "If you recall, you said that was for dragon fighting, and I quote, 'back in the old days.'"

"And you believed me?!"

"What am I supposed to believe?! I can never get a straight answer out of you about anything!"

"Wait!" George exclaimed. "Where do you think we've been going every other night when we were practicing?"

"I just thought y'all were meeting up with Angelina and Alicia to—" Rook stopped short and blushed, realizing she might have said too much at this point. "To, uh, hang out… I guess."

Fred and George shared an eloquent look. Rook shifted uncomfortably. The three had relocated to the empty Charms classroom after Madame Pince had castigated them for using raised voices near her precious books, and Rook couldn't have been more discombobulated. She had apparently missed something important, and she felt sincerely terrible about it, even though it was plainly Fred and George's fault, and she still didn't understand exactly what she had missed.

"Angelina and Alicia are on the team," George explained without actually explaining anything.

"What team?" Rook spoke through gritted teeth, reaching the end of her patience. "And don't just say 'Quidditch' again without telling me what it really is!"

At long last, Fred and George detailed the wizarding sport to Rook. Her eyes widened as she listened. How had no one bothered to tell her that witches and wizards could fly on brooms? As soon as they told her this, Rook began to lose focus as she started to daydream about the many possibilities this presented.

"And Fred and I, we're supposed to protect our teammates from the bludgers—"

"—and hit them toward the opposing team."

Rook snapped out of it. This was starting to sound vaguely familiar. She recalled the first night she met Fred and George, when George had told her that they were 'beaters' but hadn't had the opportunity to elucidate.

"Incredible," Rook muttered when they had finished. "And y'all were doing that stuff in that?" Rook spoke, gesturing at the storm still raging outside. "Incredible," she repeated. "I'm sorry I missed it, truly."

George shrugged. "Maybe it's better you missed this one."

"We lost, and Harry fell off his broom."

Rook's hands flew to her mouth as she gasped. "Oh my gosh!"

"He's okay, though! Madame Pomfrey fixed him up good as new."

"Sh-She can do that?" Rook spoke uncertainly.

"I can safely say I never knew the scope of Madame Pomfrey's abilities until Harry Potter became a student here."

"Poor Harry… His broom was smashed as well."

"Oh, no…" Rook lamented.

"That kid needs a break, for once in his life," Fred spoke. Suddenly he looked as though an idea had struck him, and he pulled a familiar, shabby piece of parchment from his pocket. "George, what if—?"

"You mean for getting into Hogsmeade?"

"He's the only third year who can't."

"It would make for an excellent Christmas gift."

"What do you think, Rook?"

Rook was a bit taken aback by the whole exchange. The map was clearly among their most prized possessions, as they treated it with a sort of reverence. "I'm not sure I should have a say in it. I mean, it's your map."

"Come on, now, Rook—"

"What's ours is yours."

"The decision ought to be unanimous."

Rook felt unexpectedly moved by her inclusion in the decision. She considered the question seriously.

"Well…" she said slowly. "Knowing you two, I figure you probably have it memorized at this point..."

"We've had it memorized since the end of first year," Fred confirmed with a wicked grin.

Rook nodded. "So it's really just for keeping tabs on the teachers and such."

"It's going to be tricky getting through Seven Before Sunrise next year without the edge," said George.

"It's like playing a video game on hard mode," said Rook with some enthusiasm. At Fred and George's blank expressions, Rook clarified. "It's like graduating to the next level of something, you know? Challenging yourself."

Fred turned to George. "I'm up for it, if you are!"

George grinned back at him and Rook. "We're in agreement?" Rook nodded. "Then it's settled! The Marauder's Map is about to be passed on to its next worthy master!"

"But let's wait until the next Hogsmeade trip to give it to him," said Fred. He put the map back into his pocket and looked at his watch. "It's almost time for dinner. I'm starving. Shall we?"

George whispered something to Fred. Fred looked from George to Rook. "Er… All right. I'll see you in a bit, then." Fred left the classroom and George turned to Rook.

"I wanted to ask you something, if… if that's okay?"

"Sure," Rook spoke nervously. What could he want to ask her that he couldn't say in front of Fred?

"When you mentioned Angelina and Alicia before… I wanted to ask, did you think we'd been going off to snog, or something?"

"Snog…?" Rook asked. The word sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite remember what it meant. Was it another wizarding thing…?

"How do Americans usually say it?" George muttered to himself. "Maybe… 'making out'?"

Rook felt her face flush. She hadn't expected him to ask her point-blank. "Oh, uh, no," she said hurriedly. "I mean, not really. It's just, you two were gone, and they were gone and I-I didn't really know what to think, you know? I thought about asking, but I didn't want to be nosy… I feel really silly now."

"I've never snogged Angelina or Alicia," said George a bit bashfully. "They're just friends. My teammates, you know?"

"Right." Rook attempted to change the subject, "They must be pretty good flyers, since they're on the team."

George hesitated. "If you want," he said, "I could teach you to fly sometime."

Rook's heart was racing. "You wouldn't mind?"

"I'd like to."

"I'd really like that."

Rook and George joined Fred for dinner. They talked more about the match, and Rook shivered when she heard dementors had showed up and caused Harry to fall. She remembered that the last time she herself had to walk past one to get back to the castle after visiting Hogsmeade, it had taken everything she had not to faint again. It had been a highly embarrassing affair, as she had to allow Spencer to support her after she had just made a big deal about holding hands.

And she had heard the screaming again… After Rook's first encounter with a dementor on the Hogwart's Express, Rook did a bit of research in order to find some way of not being so affected by them. One of the books she consulted had described a kind of meditative state in which one detaches oneself from the meaning of things around them. Fortunately, this came somewhat naturally to Rook, and when the screaming began to play inside her head, she forced herself to process it as meaningless sound. Everything around her had become meaningless. The view of Hogwarts in the distance was just a blurry mess of color on the horizon, and Spencer himself might as well have been a rock or a tree for all the significance she assigned him in that moment.

Rook had read that by doing this, one could make themselves numb and slightly more impervious to the dementors' ability to leech happiness from a given subject. The only problem was that it was hard to refocus her mind once she succumbed to such a state of dissociation. It helped to have Spencer there to ground her, but it was certainly awkward in retrospect.

Then, that same night, she couldn't help dwelling on the screaming again. She had laid awake in her sleeping bag, thinking about her former foster mother and her abusive husband and comparing the memory of her screams to the mysterious echoes in her head brought on by the dementors.

There was a lull in conversation as the three of them ate, and Rook thought of something else she'd read. Apparently, there was also a highly-advanced charm that could ward off a dementor: a charm that drew its power from a happy memory.

"I remember the first time I went to the beach with my sister," she said suddenly. "She and I covered ourselves in sand and called ourselves the 'Sand Witches'!" She smiled fondly, then blinked. "Wait a minute!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"What is it?"

Rook looked at them with wide eyes, keeping them in suspense before she finally said, "I am a witch!"

George laughed and Fred snorted into his pumpkin juice.

"Is that so?" Fred spoke, wiping his face. "And you figured that out all by yourself?"

"Just now!" Rook spoke proudly.

"Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"I think we just found our Keeper for next year!"

"What's a Keeper?" asked Rook.

"The one who guards the goal posts in Quidditch."

"Right, right… What's Quidditch?"

George chucked a bit of roll at Rook and she threw her hands in front of her face as she giggled.

"Definitely the reflexes of a Keeper," said Fred with a wink.

When they got up to leave the Great Hall after dinner, Spencer briskly approached her, as if he had been waiting to catch her before she left.

"Hello Rosemary," he greeted her with a winsome grin. "And, er, hello Fred and George. That was some match earlier. I'd compliment you on your flying, but I could hardly see anything in that tempest, if I'm being completely honest."

"Well, we wouldn't want you to be dishonest," said George seriously.

"I mean, we'd compliment you on your flying, but we haven't seen you fly since first year," Fred spoke with a shrug. "To be completely honest."

Spencer appeared mildly flustered by this simple remark, and Rook immediately deduced that there was a story behind it.

"Right, well," he muttered before turning to Rook. "Rosemary, I was wondering if I could show you something. It wouldn't take too long, and I think you'll find it interesting."

Spencer looked at her imploringly, and Rook found herself too curious to say no. She parted ways with Fred and George and followed Spencer to the fifth floor.

"McGonagall mentioned you had some interest in taking Art, back when you and she were discussing your schedule," Spencer commented cryptically.

"I did, but I ended up taking Arithmancy instead," Rook sighed. "It was a hard choice."

"Even if you're not taking the class, I asked Professor Burbage if we could come here after class hours, whenever we have spare time."

Spencer stopped outside a classroom and led Rook inside. It was a relatively small classroom, equipped with easels, canvases, paints, clay, and several other kinds of art supplies. There was a cabinet in one corner that presumably held more supplies, and a small bookshelf next to that. The most impressive feature of the classroom, however, was the enormous window with a picturesque view across the lake, which was now still and serene in the wake of the storm. While Rook walked over to look out the window, Spencer crossed over to the bookshelf and withdrew a particular volume.

"The wizard who wrote and illustrated the book I got you before," he said conversationally, "he learned to paint in this classroom."

Rook turned to look at Spencer. He joined her at the window.

"I wanted to show you this book," he continued. "It tells you how to imbue your art with magic, to make it come alive. It's a very complicated form of magic, but the results are inspiring. We can work on it together, if you're interested."

"Are you an artist?" Rook asked him curiously.

Spencer laughed. "No… I'm more of a musician. I learned violin before I came here. My mum's a muggle, and she put me up to it. I'm glad she did, though." He was silent, and they both looked out at the moon reflected in the glassy surface of the lake. Then he said quietly, "I'd like to play for you sometime."

Rook said nothing. It was normal for friends to share their passions and abilities with one another, but something in Spencer's tone made her heart flutter. She cast a sideways glance at him, watching his profile as he continued to take in the view.

"Maybe I shouldn't have brought you here," he said in the same gentle tone. "I didn't think it might make you sad."

"Sad?"

"Showing you something you can't have," he said with a knowing smile. "I also didn't expect it to be so romantic. Maybe I'm just torturing us both."

It was romantic. Not just the moon and the stars and the lake, but the fact that he had spoken to Professor Burbage on her behalf, and that he wanted her to have a place to work on her art, even though she couldn't take the class.

"Thank you, Stefan," she spoke sincerely. "I really like it."